


Taking Control

by Krakatau



Category: Venom (Comics)
Genre: Depression, Drugs, Gen, Other, Paranoia, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 03:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18217529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krakatau/pseuds/Krakatau
Summary: Anne Weying's final moments.





	Taking Control

**Author's Note:**

> I recently got into the Venom comics by way of the movie, and as a die-hard Anne Fan I've been trying to come to terms with her fate in the comics. This is borne from that, as well as my own struggles with depression and anxiety. 
> 
> I haven't yet read everything in the comics yet so if there's any inconsistencies with the current or original runs, please forgive me.

How had things gone so wrong?

It's one of the most pervasive thoughts, over the past few days, the darkest moments, when Anne found some remnant of her life before; some accolade from Columbia, some award from the firms she'd worked at. Her diplomas seemed to mock her from their frames, staring down at her from their place on the wall, speaking of some other woman.

Days like these it was impossible to think she was the same person as the confident, headstrong corporate lawyer who used words and a well-timed look to crush balls in the courtroom. Who was that woman? Where had she gone? She can see herself dimly in the reflection of the glass, her hair's grown out and currently lays in greasy ropes, her eyes set back against dark circles, worn edges of a perpetual frown etched into her brow and capturing her lips in a parenthetical thought. 

Anne grabs it off the wall and dumps it the garbage can at her side. Having these oppressive reminders of who she used to be weren't helping her, constant reminders of the how far she'd fallen, how high the cliff to recovery seemed. She grabs another - her undergrads degree - but the reflection that sneers out at her is white and black and all teeth. She drops it in surprise, stumbling back as the frame hits the ground with the sound of breaking glass. 

Hugging the wall, she can feel her heart _pounding_ in her throat. It's an instantaneous change; she'd gone from a general oppressive apathy to high alert paranoia whenever visions of _the other_ showed up. It was getting more and more frequent, the resulting panics greater and consuming. She tried to gulp for breath, her knees starting to buckle, and she just stared, _stared_ , at the broken frame on the ground, glass piercing the diploma and somehow, although she felt worlds away from the woman who had originally walked across that stage, she felt like it had torn through her own skin. 

She slowly slides to the ground as her legs give out, shaking slightly and feeling the return of that feeling, that phantom sensation of the symbiote crawling underneath her skin. 

**Broken.**

Desperately, she grips and pushes at her arms, her skin, as if that alone could sooth the sensation, then scratching at the itch when that didn't work.

**You couldn't handle it. Look at you. Fraying and useless.**

"You're not here, you're not here you're in my head, this isn't happening --"

**You can't care for yourself - you couldn't even care for your _own son._**

"Shut up -" She shoves herself up from the ground and runs through the apartment to the bathroom, throwing the medicine cabinet open and digging for her medications. She grabs an orange bottle from a collection, then closes the cabinet as she pops the top off. 

**_You abandoned him._ **

She shrieks, looking at the reflection of the symbiote in the mirror, toothy, accusing grin all crooked teeth and drool. She drops the bottle in the sink and chases it a moment later as the pills empty out down the drain. 

"No no no no no _no no no..._ " They're gone, all gone, she can't silence him now. She grips the sink and glares up at him, "I _saved him._ " Tears stream down her face, she can almost feel the rain against her back from that day that she stood there in mismatched shoes handing off the one last good thing she had in her life to a near-stranger. " _I saved him from you, asshole._ " 

It roars at her and she screams back, punching the mirror. It effectively silences him for a moment, but now her problems are just compounding. She picks the glass shards from her hand, looking at it as it bled freely but somehow feeling like it belong to someone else, it was someone else's hand, that wasn't hers.

She walks back to the living room now but she's merely going through the motions; every possibly reflective or mirrored surface gets a second glimpse, it's there in her peripheral vision, stalking her, she can feel its hot breath against her neck, feel it writhing under her skin. Anne checks the door, checks the locks, unlocks it and opens it, looks into the hallway, closes it and locks it again, leaving streaks of blood from her hand but not noticing, appreciating the pain for what little it did to ground her. 

It wasn't much; a tenuous grip on one last thread of sanity. 

**You were never strong enough. You weren't then and you certainly are not now.**

" _SHUT - UP!_ "

She catches him in one of the windows, crouched, obscene tongue lolling out and white, pupil-less eyes inextricable fixed on her, constant grin pulling into a knowing smirk over those goddamn teeth. She grabs a chair and with more strength than she thought she had, hurled it at the window. There's a deafening crash, and the window crumples outward and disappears down the the edge of the high rise apartments with the chair. A rush of cool wind sweeps in, pulling at the curtains and rustling paper, and caressing Anne's cheek with what feels like the first pearl of clarity she's had in a long time.

Everything she's done to try and get her time as Venom out of her head, all those atrocious acts, everything she did, everything that was done to her - she had never been able to silence it.

But the open window, this wind gently tugging at her clothes, reminded her that she hadn't tried all her avenues.

It was so simple. Such an easy thing, and she'd been too proud to even consider it. She walks towards the broken window feeling almost euphoric, stepping to the edge and putting her hands on the edges, remaining glass digging blessedly into her palms. 

She cried openly, this was it, she could finally get the bastard to shut up, she could kill this connection and maybe - _maybe_ \- finally be at peace. 

Dylan would never know what a mess she'd become, how terribly she'd failed. She closes her eyes and starts to lean into the wind.


End file.
